


Something Charming to Say

by orphan_account



Category: Muse (Band)
Genre: Flashbacks, M/M, Multiple Pov, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 11:39:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11035455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "I am waiting for something to go wrong,I am waiting for a familiar resolve,I am waiting for another repeat,Another diet fed by crippling defeat."_Did Matt kill him?_Did he?





	1. Prolouge

 

_Matt:_

 There was nothing I could've done to prevent it except die. The man chasing me down the street had a posse, all armed, hunting me down. 

 The next turn I took was accidental, but also the world telling me that from here on out I was either going to kill or be killed. A wall appeared in front of me, fucking up my chances to keep running. There were window sills and garbage cans I could've used to get up and out, but I was too slow to think about it.

As I finished my thought, the cold metal of the barrel of a gun was pushed against the back of my head. I had lost. My breath shook and whimpered silently, as not to show that fear was the only emotion to be felt in the moment. Adrenaline from the looming shadow of death coursed through every inch of my good-as-dead body. 

 "Down, on your knees," the man growled. I obeyed.

 I didn't know what they wanted from me. My family? My friends? Money? Success? Of course I had my fair share of all of those factors, but I wouldn't think that anybody would be crazy enough to try and force them from me.

 "Don't act like you don't remember." I couldn't. I really couldn't. I tried wracking my brain to match a face to the cold and threatening voice but there was nothing. "Matt Bellamy, is it? Would sure be a shame to let all those fans of yours down and die."

 "I-I'm so sorry, I don't re-" the man pushed the gun harder into my head and my throat clenched. The cold fear of me letting all of those people down, letting my family down,  _letting the band down_ , almost outweighed the warm rush of adrenaline still present. They mixed and swirled around in my body, testing which amounts would set me off until they found it. 

 New fear-driven anger pushed its way into my bloodstream and took the reigns. I spun around and slapped the gun out of his hands before two more men ran down the alleyway to most likely kill me. The last thing I remembered hearing was a gunshot.

 

 


	2. Oliver Hudson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dom is tired and hates knowing it's the beginning of the end.

_Matt:_

I woke up in confusion. I was supposed to be dead.

 I looked to my left to see that the curtains were drawn and the room was shadowy and lightless. The tile floor and style of the bed I was lying in, dimly lit by whatever moonlight snuck through the curtains gave away that I was in a hospital room. I looked to my right and saw Dom curled up in the polyester chair beside me. His eyes were red and puffy and his cheeks were still wet. He must not have fallen asleep until a little while ago.

 "D-Dom," I started. He immediately stirred, lifting his head to see what was going on.

 "Shit are you awake?" He sat up and whispered excitedly, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

 "Why am I alive?" I pushed my palm to my pounding forehead and his mood changed. I looked back up at him to see his previously sleepily ecstatic expression turn into one of fear and misunderstanding.

 "Y-you shot the man, o-o-or at least that's what they're putting you up to trial for." 

 "I _killed_ him?" I sat straight up and a piercing shock blasted its way up my spine, making me cry out in pain. He got up to push me back down before a nurse came in and turned on the lights.

 The nurse looked shocked and relieved at the same time as she laid eyes on my grimacing but waking face.

 "Ah, Mr. Bellamy, you're finally awake." She plastered a synthetic smile on her just as tired face and shooed Dom out of the room. "You've been asleep for quite a while."

 "How long?"

 "Two weeks yesterday."

 Jesus.

 "Why am I not dead?" I asked again, trying to regain a comfortable position in the bed.

 "That's quite an interesting question. You sound like you've asked it before." She adjusted the IV in my arm and I winced. The pain was just now slowly crawling its way through my body.

 "I think I have." I groaned.

 "Well, as the press is saying, you killed Oliver Hudson and his two mates. That's how you're alive."

 "But I heard the gunshot, it didn't come from me-shit!" I tried moving my leg to only find that it was mummified in expensive gauze and presumably stitches, as when I accidentally banged it on the side of my bed, the aches turned into hundreds of stinging hornets.

 "Oh, now don't try and reopen your wounds."

 "I wouldn't dream of it." I mumbled.

 

**

_Dom:_

 Waiting outside of Matt's room was torture. Hell, this entire situation felt like a bad trip.  

 I could never see Matt... kill somebody.

 I couldn't pass the time on social media like I used to, as questions upon questions upon agonizing questions starting piling up in my notifications. I didn't know what to tell them. I wasn't there with Matt. Even he didn't know if he killed Oliver Hudson or not. This entire case would be a game of chance where the odds were constantly changing and shifting.

 I want to believe him when he says he never shot Oliver Hudson, but I don't want to believe him when he thinks he should be dead.

 What if he did die? There wouldn't be a scandal around his name but it would be the end of the importance of everything my life had been up to this point. Knowing our social status, we would've gotten justice for him, but at what price?

 Either way things wouldn't ever be the same.

 Part of me hoped this was all just some fever dream that I would wake up from soon. Most of me, however, knew that this was it and Matt most likely had blood on his hands. Yet no matter how hard I tried to conjure up a realistic scene of Matt shakily pulling the trigger of a weapon he had always feared, I couldn't. 

 I sighed and lifted my body, heavily weighted with sleep, out of the chair. For the first time since I arrived a few days ago, I took a good look at my surroundings. Like most hospitals, blinding white covered the walls and ceilings while blue chairs with faux wood fixings were strategically placed every few meters. 

 Sleep weighed down my arms and eyes, distorting the atmosphere around me. The usual eerie disposition of the white-clad, blank hospital had no effect on me. I took one long look at the door to Matt's room and started trudging down the hallway, slowly appreciating the consistency of the walls around me. My exhaustion-filled daze began to cause the expedition to feel like I was walking in circles. All of the artwork blurred together into green and red smears and the chairs into simple rectangles. 

 I heard a door open behind me. The nurse that was helping my friend stepped out and made a gesture that I couldn't comprehend but registered as, "come here."

 I then realized that I had only walked to about the end of the hall. Only ten minutes had passed. The end of the consistency had begun.


End file.
